Abigail (14 page)

“Would your word change if you knew her life was in danger?” Judah’s quiet question stirred David’s emotions, troubling him. Who would dare hurt such a beautiful, respectful woman?

“You think the man would hurt his own wife?” He’d heard of such a thing but never seen it. Men didn’t talk about their wives unless they had something to complain about, but most of them wouldn’t severely hurt a woman. Surely Nabal wasn’t that big a fool.

“He’s capable of anything. Since his father’s death three years ago, he’s become the wealthiest, most powerful man in all of Maon and Carmel combined. And he drinks too much. I’ve seen him beat a man for the smallest slight.” Daniel leaned forward on the edge of the stone he sat on, his hands clasped in front of him. “I’m convinced she isn’t safe.”

David stood, this news stirring his blood. He paced to the fire and then back to his stone seat, then back and forth again. She had never answered his question when he’d asked her that very thing. She had simply assured him that she would not tell Nabal tonight what she had done. Did that mean she would tell him tomorrow? Confounded woman! If her father and brother were right, she had twisted her words to appease him so he would not feel compelled to protect her.

But he did feel compelled, and the need to protect her, to free her from whatever evil Nabal might plan for her, rose within him with a fierceness that took his breath. He stopped at the fire and stretched his hands in a vain attempt to warm the chill working through him. Daniel was right. Something must be done, despite his assurances to Abigail to spare her household.

He turned back to the two men sitting expectantly before him and looked from one to the other. “Take Benaiah with you,” he said, his gaze fixed on Daniel, “and watch the house for any sign of trouble. If your sister does as I suspect she might and tells her husband of all that transpired today, and if he responds in anger toward her so as to harm her, then kill him and bring her to me.”

“To you, my lord?” Judah looked at him questioningly.

“Yes. If you are forced to kill her husband, she will need protection. I’m willing to give her that.” The import of his words hit him full force. Did he truly want to add another wife? But the chances of Benaiah being forced to kill Nabal were slim. “If she is safe, leave her in peace.”

The thought left him strangely bereft.

Birds twittered outside Abigail’s window the following morning as dawn’s pink and yellow hues framed the brightening blue sky. Nabal would not awaken until the sun had moved several notches higher, but Abigail rose just the same, knowing this day would decide her fate. She rolled to the side of her raised sleeping mat and shoved the cushions aside. Sleep had eluded her much of the night, chased away by fitful dreams. But there was nothing she could do about that now.

She stood and walked to the window to gaze at the beauty of the private family courtyard. Signs of Nabal’s drunken feast last night had carried throughout the house, even staining the stones of this secluded court. After his shepherds had gone home, Nabal had stumbled into the court and passed out on the ground. The skin of wine he carried splattered its contents, seeping into the limestone. Abigail heard the commotion from her rooms and summoned the servants to carry Nabal to his bed. They began to clean up the mess, but Abigail sent them away. Time enough to scrub the place today before Nabal arose.

She turned from the window and quickly dressed. Zahara, looking haggard, appeared at Abigail’s door as she closed the lid on the pot of kohl.

“Did you sleep?” Zahara asked, stepping into the room with a tray of cheese and dates and fresh goat’s milk.

“Some. As well as could be expected, I suppose.” Abigail took a slice of soft goat cheese and nibbled the end. One thing was true of Nabal—he liked to eat well, and he chose only the best foods for his table. Her parents had never had it so good.

“You won’t change your mind? He doesn’t have to know, my lady.” Zahara’s olive skin held uncharacteristically dark circles under her eyes. Did she fear for Abigail’s safety or her own? “You don’t need to worry, Zahara. I will not give away your part in helping me.” She had decided in that moment on the mountain, when she saw the fierceness in David’s eyes, that she would blame no one but herself. No servant needed to suffer on account of her decision. She would bear this trial alone.

“It is you I’m worried about, my lady. He nearly killed you the last time. You know what he is capable of. He’ll do it for sure this time.” Zahara set the tray on a low table and sank to the floor as though all strength had failed her. “If he kills you, what will become of us?”

So she
was
worried about her future. As Abigail suspected. But then, Abigail couldn’t blame her. Zahara had grown more agitated with Nabal in the past few months, and Abigail wondered more than once if she would one day awaken to find that Zahara had run off.

Abigail bent low and touched Zahara’s arm, meeting her gaze. “If anything happens to me, do not stay here. Run to David and ask for my brother Daniel. They will protect you.” If only she could do the same without telling Nabal a thing. She lifted her head to the window as a sudden, swift longing rushed through her. She shook her head, looking back at Zahara. “Take my maids with you. Do not leave one behind, lest Nabal harm them because of me.” If she had to perish, she could not leave these innocent women at Nabal’s mercy.

“If Nabal tries to hurt you, my lady, you must not let him. Why should he kill you? We will all run to David at the first sign of Nabal’s wrath.” New hope sprang to Zahara’s eyes as she pushed herself up from the floor. “I will gather provisions and hide them in the stables with the donkeys.” She looked to Abigail as if waiting for her approval. “I won’t let you stay here, Abigail. You must promise me.”

Abigail lifted a brow at Zahara’s sudden change in demeanor. “You do agree?” Zahara lost a bit of her confidence and clasped her hands in a servant’s petitioning pose.

Abigail’s thoughts rushed in different directions, weighing Zahara’s suggestion with her conviction that she should stay and support her husband. But did that mean she should allow him to beat her as he’d done the first year of her marriage? How could she stop him? If he did not lash out at her immediately, he could sneak up on her when she was least suspecting. He could kill her on her bed.

So should she flee the moment the truth of her interaction with David left her lips? She could never outrun Nabal or his men. And if she ran to David, she would still be bound to Nabal. She would never be free of him this side of death. No one would grant her a divorce or want her if she had one.

She looked at Zahara’s hope-filled face and shook her head. “Running won’t do me any good, Zahara. Nabal would track me down, and it would put everyone in danger.” A sigh escaped her as she fingered a plump date, then put it back on the tray. “No, my place is with my husband until death parts us.” She watched defeat slowly replace Zahara’s hopeful expression. “Let’s get to work at cleaning Nabal’s mess before he awakens. That will give him one less thing to grumble about.” She left the food tray barely touched and went to do just that.

Daniel crouched low, hidden by ancient olive trees near the presses on Nabal’s property. Benaiah hunched near him behind another tree as the two of them watched Nabal’s house for signs of life. Daylight softened the harsh edges of darkness, and Daniel straightened, rubbing the kink in his back. After a night in the olive grove, he was weary and sore and covered with morning dew.

But as the night gave way to dawn, Daniel’s blood quickened, pulsing through him. Today would tell him the fate of his sister. What he wouldn’t give to end her husband’s life now.

He glanced at Benaiah, who nodded his head in the direction of the house. Daniel followed Benaiah’s stealthy lead and crept closer. Servants milled about the outer court, and three women carrying clay jars on their heads walked toward the well just over the ridge. Daniel squinted and assessed the women, confident by their unfamiliar size and gait that Abigail was not among them.

Frustrated, Daniel continued toward the house. He had hoped to snag a moment with Abigail in private to avoid any chance Nabal might overhear. Now they would have to enter the property.

Benaiah swung behind a brick wall enclosing the family’s private courtyard. Daniel caught up to him but stopped short at the sight of a man coming their way.

Daniel’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword as the servant approached, but a moment later he relaxed. It was Jakim, the man who had protected Abigail on her journey to David.

“Is something wrong?” Jakim motioned both of them to the shelter of a spreading sycamore fig tree. “Is David unhappy with my lady’s gift?” His dark eyes filled with unease as he glanced from them to the estate and back again.

“Not at all,” Daniel whispered, his own fear causing him to keep checking the house. “I am worried about my sister. Has she told your master what she has done?”

Jakim looked from Daniel to Benaiah, his eyes widening as insight dawned. “You think she is in danger.” It wasn’t a question, and Daniel could tell by the man’s furrowed brow and worried expression that their concern was not unfounded.

“The possibility didn’t occur to you when you told her of the danger you were in? You’ve been with Nabal long enough— did you think my sister would suffer no consequences for her actions?” The thought irritated him, but at the same time Daniel knew that Jakim had had no choice.

Jakim shook his head, then ran a hand through his shoulder-length brown hair. “I didn’t think that far.” He glanced behind him again as though he sensed spies approaching. “Master Nabal is not up yet. There is still time to talk to your sister. I will get her for you.”

Before Daniel could respond, Jakim turned and jogged back the way he had come.

17

Abigail picked up the last broken goblet from the dining area while Zahara swept the crumbs from the mosaic tile floor. Two other serving girls spread the low table with a clean white linen cloth and set out covered plates of cheese, cucumbers, olives, grapes, and melon. Flat bread fresh from the oven along with coriander relish and honeyed cream were set in bowls near Nabal’s seat. Hyssop tea steeped over the fire in the kitchen, waiting to ease the headache Abigail knew Nabal would have after he rose.

She carried the pieces of pottery to a wicker basket for later disposal in a field over the rise. Servants spoke in low voices around her, their wary glances piercing her resolve and filling her little by little with dread. They knew. And they were waiting with bated breath for Nabal to present himself to see what she would do. Why did so much ride on her decision? He must be told or the servants would suffer. But once he was told, they might suffer just the same. There was no safe solution.

Her stomach dipped and swayed in an all too familiar unsettled feeling as she left the kitchen to survey the dining area once more. She turned at the sound of sandals slapping on the stones. Jakim stood closer than a normal servant’s distance, his head bent toward her. Startled, she took a step back.

“What is it?” She met his troubled gaze, her heart skipping a beat and her fear spiking.

Jakim put a finger to his lips, making her realize she had spoken too loudly. She glanced hurriedly about, then moved from the dining area to the outer courtyard, motioning for Jakim to follow. “What’s happened?” She willed her racing heart to calm.

“Your brother and one of David’s men are here. They are just outside the wall, beneath the trees.”

She glanced toward the wall where the trees stretched higher, shading some of the court. Why had he come? After so much time apart and so much danger from her husband, why risk coming now?

“They are worried about you, my lady. They want to be sure you are all right.”

Daniel must have come to the same conclusion she had— that once she told Nabal, her life would end. But the fact remained, she couldn’t let him kill Nabal on the assumption he would hurt her. People could change. And maybe God would soften Nabal’s heart. Maybe when she told him the truth, he would react kindly.